(2015-10-22) In Texas
In Texas
Summary: A brief cutscene of Quinton getting to know on of the people in Texas
Date: 10.22.2015
Related: None

It's not a camp in the same way that the place near Fremont is a camp. For one it is a condominium complex, gated, with a tall stone fence around it. It's small though, just one short road going in that has a tight curve in it and ends in a cul-de-sac. There are seven buildings total, one is a club house, the other six containing five condo units joined with small garages between each to keep noise from one leaking into another. The landscaping is left alone and growing wild, giving the illusion that the place is unoccupied.

There are about 17 people living here in total, most between the ages of 20 and 40, but a couple of children and one elderly woman who everyone shows deference too, she has to be 80 at least. All related in some form or fashion, cousins, in-laws, somewhat distant in blood but not in caring for each other. Very few speak English. Quinton was accepted into the group with wary trepidation, but the aloofness is slowing warming to friendliness as the days pass and he hasn't tried to kill any of them. It's afternoon and now that the poet is proving useful and not all murdery one of the men, Lorenzo is showing him around town.

Quinton's definitely not the murdery type. He's switched to speaking spanish, and actually seems to be having an easier time than if he was trying in English. If he feels out of place, he's not showing it. Maybe the time abroad is paying off more than just getting his degree! It's warmer here, he shed his sweater for a flannel. Unfortunately, he wasn't planning on staying in TX when he left, so he has very little with him. Even with a bath, his clothes are going to be filthy by the time the truck comes back. Pale eyes are taking in the buildings as they walk around. The poet keeps his voice low, "Does your family mostly stay within the complex?"

While the group have been kind enough to feed him and give him a real bed to sleep in, that has been the extent of thier hospitality besides the not being overtly unkind. It's much the same treatment that overnighters get in Camp Hope on the rare occasions one shows up. "Usually. We only go out once or twice a week to hunt and gather. We have gardens scattered throughout town, where we grow things. Most of us were farmers back in Columbia. We try to keep things as natural looking as possible, in case the military ones come through." they walk through the backyards of a residential area, they rarely ever use the streets in town "How are things back at your camp. You have lots of people I hear."

Quinton sighs softly when the military is mentions, "Is…Is it all teens here too?" There's a soft nod of his head, "We have some gardening..hunting is good. I even manage to catch things." The poets not sure about what constitutes lots of people. "About 40…we pick up a lot of people." He's scanning the area, looking to see where 40 people could go unnoticed. "Have you had many drones? Or Silencers?"

Lorenzo nods and he crosses into another yard that has been used as a garden plot. It's still warm enough in the panhandle of Texas to grow things, and he uses the time now to check on the peppers growing there "Mostly teens yes. There hasn't been a patrol in months, the last one had an older, greying man, but the rest kids." he gives a whistle at the number "That is a lot." twice what they have "We don't get many drones in this area either. Pretty quiet. That's why we picked it."

Quinton frowns at the description. "Seemed to be in charge? We…saw someone like that too…at a strip mall…" There's a nod, "That's good. Quiet is good." He'll absently bend down and pull a few weeds. He rubs his forehead with the back of his hand, "I feel like that military is…secondary…" In the greater scheme of things, anyway. "We need to start making some offensive plans…" Even as he says this, his eyes flicker up towards the looming ship in the sky.

The man nods to Quinton, "Yes. He seemed to be the one in charge. They stopped briefly outside of town to switch drivers. Had some really young kids with them too." Lorenzo has no idea what that is about "Secondary maybe, but they are the problem on the ground." he studies the other man briefly, "We need more people for that, and a way to communicate with other survivor groups."

Quinton's frown deepens. Young kids. His mind briefly wanders back to camp, hoping everyone is ok before he takes a deep breathe, "Yes…I do understand that. I'm just…" He shrugs, knowing his overall vision isn't shared by most. "Yeah…communication is…a problem." He's surest bird messengers, but no one really trusts the flying creatures anymore…He certainly has some doubts about them. "Makes me wish i had paid more attention in ancient history class… I'm sure they had low tech ways of communicating besides runners." Low the is better, less chance of the aliens picking it up.

Just?" Lorenzo prods "Live instead of just survive?" he asks if that was what the man didn't want to say, "The only way that is going to happen is if we take the fight to them. But that requires more that just forty people and the will to live." he gives Quinton a light pat on the back "I'm sure you or someone will come up with something. You seem like a smart guy." he points to the west "There is a library in town maybe research will help."

Quinton internally winces at the pat. The poet doesn't see how he'll be any help, really. But he nods. "Gotta start somewhere, right?" There's a turn of his head west, "Yeah? I'd like to go look…if that's alright? After checking on the gardens, that is…" And then he glances down, Do you just plant one type of thing in each garden?"

"It only takes a drop." the man says but nods to Quinton "We can head that way. We have tried to keep the library and other places free of mice and rats." he shakes his head at the question "No, just one thing at a time. We had tomatoes in this garden in early spring. Peppers now. If it stays warm may do something else here."

That's slightly encouraging, and Quin flashes the man a quick smile. Maybe he'll pick up a book while he's there. Everyone here is nice, but he's trying to not be a bother to everyone. "Sure." And then he chuckles, "That's a lot of Tomatoes!…We have some seeds we could probably trade you…even if we don't stay…having choices will be healthier for everyone…right?"

"It was enough. We have other things planted as well around town. Not the variety we are used to, we aren't starving." they aren't as well feed as the people at camp hope are, but it's not for lack of food, they have plenty stocked up they just are tighter on rationing it and prefer to be a little hungry today instead of starving tomorrow "Do you think your group won't want to stay here?"

Quinton's cheeks puff out and she shrugs, "I'm not in charge…They only half listen to me, so…I don't know?" His pale eye keep scanning the area, making sure there's not a threat. "I don't see any reason not to, but it's not my call." He then smiles "And that also depends if you even want us here."

"There is another group of survivors. Down between Austin and San Antonio. Living in the caves there. I tried to talk my family into joining them, but they don't want to leave here. We need more people if we are going to survive. If I can't get them to more people, maybe I can get them to accept more people here." the rest of the group has been on the fence. Some welcome more, some don't. The matron hasn't said one way or another and ultimately it is the old woman's decision "I'm in the same spot, not the leader, so even if others agree, it might not matter." he begins to walk again, in the direction that he said the library was in.

Quinton nods in sympathy, "Is there anything I can do to help show we're all on the same side?" The weather is hie enough he unbuttons the flannel once as they walk. He lets the other man lead the way as he eyes any potential places camp Hope could relocate too.

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